


A Little More Eighteen Candles

by georgialeigh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:26:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgialeigh/pseuds/georgialeigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' dad is getting married on his eighteenth birthday. Derek saves the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little More Eighteen Candles

**Author's Note:**

> Totally wrote this in like an hour flat... didn't edit it at all but I was INSPIRED OK?

For the first time in like, six years, Stiles’ birthday was going to fall on a Saturday. He was enthused, to say the least, when he first realized this fact the year prior, when his birthday was on a Friday. They’d all gone bowling and got drunk on the lacrosse pitch behind the high school. He liked having a spring birthday - the weather was warm, he could drink outdoors, and for whatever reason, the nemeton seemed to be more worried about growing than attracting supernatural creatures to Beacon Hills, so everyone was low-key, relaxed, and having a good time. It’d been a few weeks since a stray omega had wandered into the Hale territory (now, Scott’s territory, how weird is that?). So, Stiles was looking forward to his birthday.

And then his dad and Melissa got engaged, which, yeah. And then they found out they wouldn’t actually be able to get married at the golf club for a whole year because every good Saturday was booked, but then one couple broke up. And guess what day their wedding was supposed to be? Uh huh. Stiles’ birthday - and in fact, one of his most important birthdays, to be clear - his eighteenth birthday. He would be a legal adult. He’d decided on going to Beacon County Community College with Scott (he’d gotten into a state scholarship program - all expenses paid because of his good grades) and in two years he could transfer to any state school and that would be free, too. California Stars program - woop woop! 

So, he was a little bummed that he wasn’t going to be going to any frat parties or getting wasted every night or smoking weed with his buddies at two in the morning. He wouldn’t have a lot of traditional college experiences, going to community college. But, he figured, well, I could have a really kick ass 18th birthday party, and that could be a silver lining.

His dad was apologetic - sincerely apologetic. They’d gotten engaged back on Valentine’s Day after dating for only five short months (since Stiles found out about the dementia attacking his brain and when they finally got that nogitsune to go bye-bye). So, at first, his dad was apologetic, and Melissa was, too. She didn’t want to step on Stiles’ toes. There was also the issue of who was going to sell whose house. Melissa offered immediately, because there was no sentimental value to her home other than drunken fights with Scott’s dad. But Stiles had grumbled a little bit about her being in his parents bed, who no other woman than his mom had ever occupied (Stiles made sure of that). So, that had been a big issue. So, as a compromising point, Stiles and Scott were going to live at the McCall residence when they graduated, and they would pay rent, and Melissa would move into the Stilinski household. She would hyphenate her maiden name with Stilinski and that was the end of that. Scott hadn’t blamed Stiles for his resentfulness, especially with the birthday issue. Scott had turned 18 in November, and their parents had been out of town and Derek threw a party at the loft for Scott and then slept at Scott’s house because he wasn’t really into the partying scene at all. Stiles had been kind of hoping for the same treatment.

But now there was a wedding, and he was the best man and Scott was the maid of honor (which was also a kind of silver lining to the whole thing). He had to wear a tuxedo on his wedding when really, he’d rather be naked in bed. But, well, perhaps Stiles’ moodiness had something to do with who he wanted to be naked in bed with. And maybe the fact that this person would have formerly been charged with statutory rape if he’d gone anywhere near Stiles’ bed with his pants down. Even worse, Stiles was about 250% sure that he wasn’t even on said possible statutory rapist’s radar. He’d spent so many years pining after Lydia that he hadn’t recognized how much he actually… liked the stubble on the older man’s jaw, or his broad shoulders or his deep, soothing voice that at first scared the shit out of him but now… well, now it haunted him in the shower and his dreams and when he watched very specifically labelled porn on red tube.

So, yeah, Stiles had noticed Derek Hale that way. He loved that his jeans showed off his strong, strong thighs and even more muscular ass. Stiles was often tempted to try to actually bounce a quarter off that ass. And when he sometimes stumbled across Derek without a shirt on, in the middle of a workout - those were the nights he came hardest with a whisper of Derek’s name.

He thought maybe his birthday party would be the night that he finally put himself on Derek’s radar. He was tired of being unsure of Derek’s sexual preferences. He was tired of keeping his attraction a secret, and now he was really pissed that not only was his dad getting remarried, but he was marrying his best friend’s mom, and they were doing it on his birthday and worst of all they would not be going on a honeymoon for six weeks, until after the boys graduated.

\- - -

First was the issue of prom. Stiles had thought he’d have to go stag, but the twins were long gone, and Lydia didn’t have a date, so she looked at Stiles expectantly for three days before he finally caught on and asked her, and she told him that she was going to be wearing pale pink and that he should not try to match her in any way whatsoever, and that she didn’t want a tacky corsage. She had printed out an acceptable example of one and told him to bring it to the nice florist by Derek’s loft. He had done as he was told, he got a simple black tux with a bow tie and nice dancing-friendly shoes, and he stood and took pictures like the nice boy he was, despite that he really questioned his sanity in realizing how annoying Lydia really was all this time. He had thought he knew her better than anyone… but in reality, her cold exterior went a little more than skin deep.

She looked nice though, and he’d be proud to show his grandkids the pictures someday. His dad looked proud, and so did Melissa. Scott took Kira and Isaac took Allison and they were all happy.

But of course, Lydia ended up ditching him because the twins made a reappearance (Ethan couldn’t hold out on Danny any more) and so he was alone, nursing a spiked coca cola at their table when a really awkward and geeky girl with a camera and head gear tripped over him during a slow song. 

“Sorry!” She squeaked. “I’m the yearbook photographer, um, I’m really sorry,” she stuttered.

Stiles recognized her from school. She wasn’t… really all that bad, without the head gear and bad clothes. She was just nerdy, like he had been at one point.

“That’s ok,” Stiles said. “Do you want to sit?” He offered, knowing it might make this girl’s night if she got to sit with someone and not look terribly out of place.

“Ok,” she said hurriedly. And then, definably the weirdest thing that had ever happened to Stiles in his entire life had occurred. Weirder than walking in on his soon-to-be step mother kissing his dad goodnight at the station once, and weirder than being possessed by a nogitsune. “I made a bet with the senior girls that I could get into a guy’s pants tonight. Could I borrow your underwear?” 

Stiles stared at her, long and hard, but she didn’t falter or apologize or take back her really weird request. He felt like he’d seen this exact thing happen somewhere else, and he felt like, for some reason, he should oblige her.

“Give me five minutes,” he said easily.

He went to the men’s bathroom after downing the remainder of his spiked drink (he didn’t want tinkerbell the photographer to get drunk on his leftovers). He took a leak in the urinal and then slipped into one of the stalls. He was quick about it, not making too much ruckus but almost sticking his left foot into the toilet accidentally. He had worn a pair of plain black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. He smirked as he put his hand over the crotch and stretched it slightly - hoping that this girl would give him credit and maybe not just the girls would hear about how he was big enough to stretch his underwear. Maybe a certain Hale would hear about it, too.

He wondered who had bullied this girl into betting she could get into someone’s pants. He wasn’t really on the social radar at Beacon Hills though, he didn’t know a lot of his fellow classmates, nor did he care. So, he let it go, and figured it would never get back to any of his friends, which was what mattered. The dance was almost over anyway, and even if he wanted to dance and jump up and down (which would now put on quite a show for anyone paying attention), it probably wasn’t going to happen.

He stuffed his underwear back in his pocket and headed back out to the dance floor. He found the freshman girl.

“I’m Dion, by the way,” she said, grinning as she stuck his boxers in her clutch. 

“Good to know,” he shrugged.

“You’re Stiles, right?” She asked, and he nodded. “Your dad’s the sheriff.”

“I am aware of that, thanks,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets, hoping to send a message. Scott came and found him then, though, seemingly to rescue him from the awkward shrimpy girl in head gear.

“Dude, what was that about?” Scott whispered to him as they walked away, back to their table as the student council prepared to announce the prom king and queen.

“She was lost,” Stiles shrugs and Scott smiles, floppy puppy face on full display as they sat down. He kissed Kira’s cheek and she smiled, and Lydia glared at Stiles and he rolled his eyes in retaliation.

And then Allison won prom queen, and Scott won prom king, and it all got very awkward, but they made it through dancing to Free Falling and by the end of the song they’d found their dates and were dancing again. 

Stiles walked himself home, sighing as he went.

\- - -

Derek really regretted offering to host the after prom party at his loft. He regretted it even more now, after finding out that Stiles wasn’t showing up.

He knew how hard this whole imminent wedding thing was on him - just a week away, too. He could see the tension in Stiles’ shoulders when no one else was looking and he could smell the anxiety rolling off of him.

In a moment of sympathy, a few weeks back, Derek had decided he would try to talk to Stiles. He figured that, even if he wasn’t Stiles’ alpha, he was someone that Stiles would probably feel more comfortable talking to, as he was Scott’s right-hand. Weddings were official pack business after all, as was Stiles’ welfare, since discovering he did indeed have frontotemporal dementia. The drugs Stiles was taking was slowing the deterioration and Scott was on strict instructions not to bite Stiles until it was really, 100% necessary.

Anyway, Derek had decided to hop up onto the Stilinski roof and just as he was about to climb in Stiles’ window… he heard the faint slapping of skin on skin, and Stiles’ breathlessness and then he could literally taste the heady arousal coming out of Stiles’ closed window. He was about to turn and leave, figuring masturbating was a totally normal way to help rid stress, when he heard Stiles moan Derek. 

Derek had nearly fallen off the roof.

He’d thought… he had no idea Stiles had thought of him that way. And he had no idea how or why his body had reacted the way it did - dick immediately springing to fully erect. He hadn’t ever been in denial that he could be attracted to a guy, but he hadn’t ever looked at Stiles that way.

He’d gone home and jerked off twice before falling asleep.

At first, he’d tried being nicer to Stiles, but Stiles was so goddamn angry about the impending wedding that he took it as Derek mocking him, so that backfired. He offered to work out with Stiles, to get some of his aggression out, but Stiles took that as him calling him weak, and he told him to fuck off. So, Derek did. He left Stiles alone. He had hoped maybe Stiles would be in a better mood on prom night, but it turned out he’d been acting weird all night (according to Isaac).

And then Cora came running up to him, fully laughing and grinning and nearly peeing her pants.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks her. She looks nice - he’s glad she came home and finished out her high school education with the pack. He was glad she had found a place in the pack of the true alpha. 

“We made a bet with this nerdy freshman girl, that she wouldn’t be able to hook up with anyone at the dance,” she heaved, trying to catch her breath from laughing so hard. “But guess whose underwear she got as proof?” She threw her head back laughing, and held up her iPhone for Derek to look at.

A pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs were in the hands of a small girl, with glasses and head gear. She was standing in the doorway of what looked like a bathroom stall, and there was clearly a crowd around her, all with their phones up, taking picture documentation as well.

“Well, whose are they?” Derek asks, amused.

“STILES!” She yelped and then burst out laughing again, running off to show Allison.

Derek felt like he’d been sucker punched.

Stiles had rejected him… repeatedly - only to have sex for the first time with her?

He growled, and then he found himself roaring.

“GET OUT!” He yelled at everyone, and there was a lot of scurrying and squealing but then blessed, blessed silence. The place was a wreck, and he didn’t really feel like cleaning up at all, and Lydia was a drunk mess.

He was just slowly lowering his ass to the couch when he heard someone yelp beneath him, literally almost scaring the shit out of him. He ripped the seating cushions from the blue sofa and glared at the figure beneath.

“You!” He yelled, pointing an accusatory finger.

“Me?” She squeaked.

“Yes, you,” he rolled his eyes. Lydia’s head was lolling side to side on the floor against one of the steel posts supporting the roof, and he wondered why the hell Aiden had left her in this condition, and then remembered, well, that’s the twins for you.

“Did you have sex with Stiles?” He growled.

“What? Where did you hear that?” She stutters. “He just… I asked him for his underwear. He did it as a favor…” She blurts, and blushes, and cowers. Derek couldn’t help but find himself smiling.

“Well, where’s his underwear now?” He growled.

“I um, sold it,” she whispers. Derek felt the rage seeping into his veins again. Who else was lusting after Stiles, those perfect plump pink lips and full head of soft brown hair, and God, those big whiskey colored eyes…

“To who?” He growled.

“Um, I don’t know, but I got twenty bucks!” She says, triumphant.

“You have to drive her home,” he gestures with a jerk of the thumb at Lydia. “I’ll give you my keys. Bring it back here tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t drive!” She squeaks, climbing up from the couch frame.

“It isn’t that hard. She doesn’t live far, anyway.

Five minutes later, they’re all in the parking garage, and Stiles has Lydia laid across the backseat of his Toyota FJ Cruiser, mumbling about Jackson and Aiden and double penetration.

“This is her address,” Derek writes it down on a receipt he finds in the glove compartment and stuffs it in the girl’s hands. “If you don’t bring this car back, I will hunt you down.”

He thinks the girl is going to cry, but instead she clambers up into the seat, takes a hit off of her inhaler, and starts the engine. She rolls down the window.

“Can you help me reverse?” She asks. He moves behind the car and begins to give her directions. 

“Slowly turn the wheel counter clockwise…” He starts to say. She’s doing okay so far, and he’s impressed, and then she accidentally floors it and runs him over.

He’s blinking up at the ceiling, wondering what has become of his life. A fifteen year old girl has just outdone his reflexes. He has met his demise to a girl in head gear with asthma, who sold Stiles’ underwear for twenty dollars and got stuffed into his couch like down feathers.

“Are you ok? Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” 

“Fine. Go.” He growls, trying his best to keep his composure.

She gets back into the car and drives away, having now backed up enough to push forward.

He gets up and goes back to his loft, and flops face-first onto his bed, letting himself heal before falling asleep.

\- - -

The car is miraculously back in its parking spot, unscathed, the next morning by 10 am. Derek drives to the preserve and sits on his old front porch for a while, pondering what to do about Stiles. He goes for a long run and does some pull-ups on a tree branch and does some serious self-reflection. He still can’t wrap his head around that puny little girl running him over with his car, and on fucking accident, no less.

\- - -

Stiles’ whole family has inhabited his house. Really, he’s more hospitable than how he’s currently behaving, but his great aunt Muffie just took a massive dump in the bathroom and he’s going to be late for school because he can’t go in there with it smelling like that.

Eventually it airs out and he showers quickly and pulls on his jeans and a t-shirt and speeding to school in the Jeep.

He’s seconds away from being late to first period, so he’s running through the halls, not really paying attention to all the new flyers that seem to be clinging to every surface of the building. Eventually, though, he has to pause to catch his breath… and he just happens to look up for a second, and it looks like someone holding up a trophy in a picture - a very high resolution picture, he thinks, and then he realizes she’s holding up boxers. That’s weird, he thinks. Who holds up boxers like some kind of reward? And then it all hits him like a ton of bricks. He scans her face, immediately recognizing the head gear and glasses and dopey smile. And then the caption - in big, bold letters (and in Comic Sans, to make it twenty times worst) - STILES STILINSKI - VIRGIN NO MORE!

He faints.

\- - -

He bribes the nurse into letting him go back to class instead of sending him home to his house full of nut jobs with strongly scented bowel movements, and he hates his life about thirty times more that day.

Scott tries to cheer him up - “At least you finally got it in, dude!” 

“I didn’t! Ugh, what the fuck,” Stiles bangs his head on the wall and barely makes it through the rest of the day. Lydia actually chastises him for ‘ruining her senior prom by hooking up with some freak show in an alien costume.’

\- - -

The rest of the week isn’t better, isn’t worse. He has to meet Scott’s whole family at some hokey dinner at the diner on the state highway - hugging and kissing all of his weird relatives, getting his cheeks pinched (both sets). 

Stiles actively misses Derek for the first time in a long time. 

He’s been so sexually frustrated - he can’t easily jerk off on the couch downstairs, with the whole family in town, he’s been put out of his bed - but Derek’s been such a dick lately, too, so he hadn’t missed the emotional companionship of being around him too much.

But he misses him - they were closer, for a while, after the incident at his dad’s office and Derek shielded his body from flying glass. They’d bonded over Stiles’ findings in the bestiary during different supernatural battles. And Derek had been encouraging about the scholarship program that would keep him in Beacon Hills, actually smiling when Stiles suggested that he couldn’t get rid of him.

Finally, though, it’s Saturday.

He gets up at the asscrack of dawn and showers first, waxing his hair into an acceptable coiff of sorts and pulling the tuxedo that he’d worn to prom out of the dry cleaning bag in the front coat closet. His dad comes ambling down the stairs and tells Stiles he needs to help him get the relatives up and moving and maybe he could go out and grab some donuts for everybody because the cocktail hour isn’t until four and everyone’s going to be hungry at the ceremony because they have to be there for pictures at eleven and has he seen his cuff links anywhere?

Stiles goes to the Dunkin Donuts in his tuxedo. He comes back and feeds his crazy, ancient relatives who smell like mothballs. He stuffs them all into the car at ten-thirty and poses for the awful church steps pictures with his dad and Mama McCall and Scott. He feels bad that he might be putting a damper on the day so he hugs his soon-to-be stepmother and she smiles and tears up and tells him that he has become such a nice young man and she is proud to call him her family.

But no one says ‘Happy Birthday’ to him. He doesn’t try to drop hints or anything, he just… accepts his fate. His dad will probably remember during the reception. But it hurts that Scott forgets, that everyone forgets.

He thinks Melissa looks beautiful, though, in her ivory dress-suit and her little mini-veil. She’ll be good to his dad, won’t let him eat bacon, and that’s what counts, right? His dad will survive because he has her.

\- - -

Derek can’t take it anymore. It’s Stiles’ eighteenth birthday, he wants to kiss him, mark him, make him his own. It’s the wolf in him - the full moon is only two days away - but the wolf wants Stiles. He hasn’t seen him in weeks and he misses his laugh and his sarcastic quips and his smell - sweaty teenager mixed with freshly cut grass and maybe some sugar in there, too? He even misses the smell of the medication - all those ‘triptans’ that he has to take. These are the smells of his mate.

It startles him - this realization - that Stiles is his mate. It makes sense though - makes sense that he never really fit with anyone else, even after he left Beacon Hills, even when he came back. He had genuinely liked Jennifer, before she turned into a murderous freakshow, but she hadn’t smelled like mate.

So, he of course wanted to give this little tidbit to Stiles for his birthday. He hadn’t been able to figure out what to get Stiles, other than a condom and a cute ‘I love you’ hallmark card at CVS. He knew Stiles wasn’t the material kind of guy. So, as a last ditch effort, he bought a bouquet of lavender flowers from the corner store by his apartment and drove over to the Stilinski house.

And he totally forgot about the wedding.

No one answers the door when he rings the bell. He sighs, and sits on the front porch steps, and hangs his head.

Eventually, he gets up. He has a plan.

\- - -

The ceremony is over by two o’clock. Everyone throws rose petals at the bride and groom and Stiles has the job of herding everyone to the golf club. He’s the last one out of the church, thanking the priest for a nice ceremony, and he turns around, and nearly chokes on the air he’s inhaling.

There is Derek Hale, and he’s leaning against a red Porsche 911. 

Stiles’ jaw drops, because he’s not 100% sure what’s happening. He thinks it’s the dementia acting up again, so he pinches his arm and slaps his cheeks a couple of times, but then he notices that Derek’s holding something - a cupcake, with a candle in it.

Stiles starts the slow walk down the church steps. When he’s about five feet away from Derek, Derek pulls a lighter out of his pocket and lights the birthday candle.

“Make a wish,” he says. Stiles has missed his voice so much, that he grabs the cupcake from Derek, plucks the candle out of the cake, throws it on the ground, and then in his attempt to grab Derek and kiss him, totally smushes the cupcake between them - all over the lapel of his tuxedo jacket and all over Derek’s green henley.

“What is my life?” Stiles yells at the sky, and Derek laughs, wipes some icing off of his shirt, and smears it on Stiles’ lips, and then cups his cheeks, and kisses him.

\- - -

They don’t go to the reception.


End file.
